100 Days of SPN
by ohkisme
Summary: A Supernatural ficlet a day for 100 days. [T for smut and language; TW: blood, death, alcohol, abuse, incest.]
1. Deordination

Sam was definitely intoxicated, Dean noted with a smirk. It was true that his brother shared a drink or two with him on occasion, but he hadn't seen the man properly shitfaced in years. Quite right, too; somebody had to take care of the rest of the family. But it appeared that Dean had to take care of Sam now. Isn't that what older brothers are for? Though he hadn't quite expected to have a clumsy, depressed moose on his hands for the evening.

Presently, the drunk was leaning awkwardly against Dean's shoulder and drooling just a bit. Dean had one arm around the tall man, and with the other hand he was fumbling with the key to their motel room. His thoughts were interrupted by his brother's drunken, bitter laughing, but eventually he slipped the key into the rusted keyhole and pushed open the door. Before he could move, Sam stumbled in, dragging the shorter man in with him. With an aggrevated sigh, Dean pushed his brother- who was now muttering something about demons- onto one of the beds . He sat down on the other and eyed the form of the drunkard sprawled out on the mattress.

"Never get drunk again, Sammy," the hunter uttered, bemused. With a grunt of acknowledgement, the man in question rolled over and curled into a ball. _Being drunk was wasted on him_, Dean thought with a frown; _he wasn't happy and he certainly wasn't getting shagged. _At least they were spending time together- in a weird, dysfunctional way. Or, well, they were, until Dean realized that Sam was now unconscious and snoring like some ancient behemoth. After thinking a moment, the elder brother stripped his bed of its comforted and laid it over the younger.


	2. Ephemeral- Part I of II

Spirit hunting was always one of Dean's strong suits. His quick reflexes are perfectly matching to the unpredictable movements of the apparitions. He had the intuitive nature that was an advantage in doing research and finding unmarked graves. Most of all, he had the balls to kill a spirit, no matter how peaceful they were in life. The hunter had almost never met a spirit he didn't have it in him to fight. That is, until he went back to Kansas.

Paths were crossed a lot in this business- unfinished business from earlier hunts, taking part in a hunt in your hometown- but Dean had never seen any of his childhood friends on a hunt. Sure, he'd hooked up with old flames, but they weren't exactly what he'd call friends. Few people were now, though like any normal kid, he had people to play with when he was young. He didn't miss them, not really, but he hoped to God they were all safe. Between the demons, the Leviathans, and the bloody _apocalypse_, who knew? Thankfully, they were all safe- with one exception.

Naturally, Dean started out on the hunt excited- a distraction, finally. The report seemed normal: police found a body in a locked house, no signs of forced entry. The body (Andrew Norwood, 37) was found frozen in a pool of blood in the same solid state. Dean remembered the name- or, it sounded familiar- but he didn't think anything of it. Probably a jerk, he figured, and besides that, there's no room for sentiment. And so he forgot about it until it came time to do the research.


	3. Abapical- Part II of II

_'Sebastian Rivers, 12, died in a tragic accident on Monday in the town of Lawrence, Kansas. He was found trapped beneath the ice in a pond near his house. Last seen with him was Andrew Norwood, 16, who had no comment for the public. The police have ruled it an accident and are no longer investigating. The funeral will be held at 4:00 PM at St. Katherine's Lutheran Church. Rivers's family has announced that anybody willing to attend is free to.'_

Pale fingers darted back and forth along the lines of test as Dean scanned the old newspaper. As he caught sight of the article, his breath caught in his throat. Sebastian Rivers- his Little League teammate, the third child at the Winchester house- hadn't even lived past 12. Dean's heart fell and he turned away, cursing himself for the stupid, hindering feelings. He wiped his eyes with the back of one scarred hand and frowned. Something had to be done, even if it killed him inside.

"Nobody talks about this, got it?" Dean growled, hands tight on the wheel of the car. It was two days later, and while the two brothers were tired, there was no time to rest. They had more jobs to do. Sam looked over at the shorter man, a hint of sadness in his eyes, but said nothing. He didn't know Sebastian, or even of his significance in Dean's life, but there were few times the man was this distressed after a hunt. It was a harsh life in this business, and though neither of them liked it, they knew it would pull them in whenever they tried to get out. But really, they also both knew in their hearts that if they didn't fight, they didn't live.


	4. Nemoral

Stop signs whizzed past as Sam slammed the gas pedal. Trees blurred into green streaks as he sped along the deserted stretch of road. The sunlight bounced off the front of the car, hitting his eyes painfully, but he ignored the glare and drove on. His hands were clenched around the wheel so tight his knuckles were stark white. Still, despite the risk and the pain, he didn't slow down. Chasing the Impala was a police car, sirens whining and lights flashing brightly.

Police staff never took kindly to the Winchesters when they realized they were felons. Quite understandable, but still not good for the two brothers. After all, they_ were_ helping. The demon that had been in the killer would have destroyed the whole city if they'd let him. Of course, there was still the issue of stabbing someone directly in front of an officer. But if anyone were to listen to the brothers and actually believe them, they'd most likely be fired- or worse.

Now was not to dwell on those facts, though. The police car was gaining on the two brothers, inching closer to them by the second. However, just as he realized they were close to being caught, Sam noticed a break in the trees. Before Dean could protest, the driver swung the car around to follow the slender path. Tree branches scraped at the car, but the police car was far behind them now. And after all, it's always fun to have a high-speed chase in a forest, right?


	5. Sacerdotal

Sleet pattered against the windows of the Impala, and wind blew in the trees along the road. The rain made a haunting but lulling melody as it tapped at the top of the car. Soft purring from the motor filled the ears of the two men in the backseat. Cold seeped through to their bones, and they clung to each other frailly. Wings of one were wrapped around the body of the other, and their cold hands were in each others'. Their eyes were closed, just pretending they were somewhere safe and warm.

Pressing their bodies together, they shivered as the storm outside grew worse. The man at the wheel drove on as they huddled in the back. With a defeated sigh, the angel took his coat from around his shoulders and laid it upon the other man, pulling him close as he did so. A small noise of gratitude and a kiss on the chin rewarded him. As the hunter curled up against the omnipotent, his hand met his elder's soft, dark hair. Maybe this was better than being safe and warm.

Nuzzled against his angel, Dean had a warm heart and a smile on his face. Castiel ran his fingers through his hunter's coarse, sandy hair. Even if he had the words to say exactly how he felt, Dean could never understand it. Not that it couldn't be reciprocated, of course. He knew it before any of this. Angels always knew. But something that new, that beautiful, that unbelievable could only be described in the most beautiful syllables of Enochian.


	6. Acharné

Screaming of ambulance sirens drowned out Dean's thoughts and filled his soul with panic. His heart pounded in his chest, sending blood rushing painfully through his aching body. Several cuts on his face and neck were bleeding profusely, but that wasn't the real problem. The ambulance wasn't for him. God, he wished it was, because the alternative made him sick with depression. But the crumpled form on the gurney wasn't him, and no matter what he did, he couldn't help that. Even if he'd die to fix it, he couldn't.

Pausing a moment to rest against the brick wall of a building, Dean watched the ambulance speed away. Nausea hit him like a punch to the gut, and he dug his nails into the wall to keep himself from falling. There were so many things he should have told that damned angel, but it was too late now. He cursed himself with a heavy heart and closed his eyes tightly, wanting to forget everything about Castiel. His loyalty, his beauty, his selflessness, his love- Dean wanted it all gone. He wanted to be back in Hell with the demons and the devils, because at least he wouldn't be alone.

Night eventually set in as the sun fell, illuminating the trees in a spectrum of oranges and pinks. The beauty of it all made Dean want to puke. Or, better yet, tear his eyes out. For God's sake, he didn't want to watch the sunset alone. Who did? But he guessed his idea of romance was too old-fashioned if it didn't include death.


	7. Maudlin

Soft lips met against Dean's neck, and he opened his eyes with a start. Castiel peered down at him from the arm of the couch, cocking his head slightly. Dean sighed drowsily and looked out the window, yearning for just five more minutes of sleep. The sun was just beginning to set, and with a frown, he remembered his promise to Cas. That promise was, of course, that he would watch the sunset with the angel. The sunset was completely boring, but he'd go to greater lengths to please Cas.

"Please?" Castiel asked pleadingly, nearly reading Dean's thoughts. He could see the excitement in the angel's eyes, and eventually he gave in. After all, he made a promise. Winchesters always kept their promises. The hunter stretched his arms, then stood up and looked down at Cas expectantly, waiting for him to stand up as well. In a moment, the scrawny angel had disappeared. Only after what seemed like ages of searching did Dean find him on the roof.

Nervously, Cas watched the sun fall, his shaking hand in Dean's. With the other, he kept his fingers wrapped around the small box in the pocket of his coat. To his luck, the hunter didn't notice a thing. It was predictable, but luck all the same. As the sky turned dark, Castiel leaned in toward Dean and slipped the box from his pocket. Before he could open his mouth, Dean had his forehead against Cas' and was whispering 'Yes' into oblivion.


	8. Undeify

Something about Gabriel was just delectable to Sam. It wasn't his soft hair or lips, though he did love both. His wings- God, he loved the wings- weren't quite what made him so desirable. Individuality wasn't the thing; he certainly wasn't the only boy he knew who was dating an angel. No, it was more the way the trickster came in hard and fast. He didn't stop until that smooth, plush hair was slicked with sweat and those pink lips were mouthing Sam's name.

Pleasure ran through Sam's veins, and he could feel it in Gabriel as his slender fingers traced over the tattoo on his chest. The angel's heartbeat pulsed through every pore, echoing on Sam's skin and quickening his own heart. Sam dug his nails into the angel's warm, bony shoulders and bit his lip as Gabriel's ghosting fingers travelled down his abs. His fingertips worked Sam's tender flesh, rubbing gently and dancing over his body. Blood raced through his veins and clouded his thoughts. Their fingers were skating across every inch of each others' bodies, and oh, God, it felt good; don't stop, Gabe, don't you dare stop or I'll do it myself; don't let this end God don't ever let this end because it feels so good and I need it.

Nude, the two men dozed beneath the dirty sheets. Blankets had been thrust off the bed and now covered the floor. Gabriel's now-calm fingers were on Sam's chest, stroking the man's skin gently in his sleep. Sam's arm was hooked around Gabe's shoulders and his fingertips brushed against the angel's light brown hair. As they lay there, sleepily intertwined, their breathing began to match up in one slow, tired rhythm. No matter what happened next, right now they were truly together.


	9. Emption- Part I of II

Sacrifices were the things that Sam Winchester was best at making. So when the only man he ever really loved was killed, there was no doubt in his mind that something had to be done. Lucifer- that son of a bitch- had left his own brother to die, and he had to pay. But for now, the only thing that mattered was getting Gabriel back. He only knew one person who could do it. Castiel, unfortunately, drove a hard bargain.

Pacifying the angel enough to strike a deal was less than easy. It seemed that all Cas thought about was what kind of effect the apocalypse would have on Dean. Though, that was typical for him. Given the fact that Sam was prepared to forgo anything besides what Castiel suggested, he was even less prepared for Dean to agree to the whole ordeal. But he did, and there was no other way to get Gabe back. Sam had no idea, though, why Cas would want to shag him.

Nevertheless, Sam agreed, and so there they were. Castiel's unfamiliar skin was warm to the touch, almost unpleasantly so. His host's body was a slender, nauseating contrast to Gabriel's. He could feel the arousal in Cas's body, though, pulsing through his veins and fingertips. And anyway, Castiel's passion was a little endearing. So Sam decided he'd try it, even if he had to fake it.


	10. Languet- Part II of II

Skin met against sweaty skin as Sam threw away his inhibitions. He had to do it; he might as well enjoy it. As Castiel's tongue flicked over his chest, Sam dug one hand into his short black hair, tugging at it a bit. The angel grunted in response before trailing kisses down to his abs. Sam arched his back slightly, shivers running through his body. _You're not Gabe but I want you anyway, don't you ever stop. _

Playing teasingly, Cas backed up more and began to stroke the inside of Sam's thigh. The angel placed gentle kisses all along his flesh and the hunter moaned, breath nearly catching in his throat. With a little smile of pleasure, Cas finally slipped his thumb under Sam's cock and raised it up a bit. His nearly serpentine tongue grazed the skin of it and Sam dug his nails into the bed sheets. Castiel's finger ghosted forward along the vein at the bottom, which was answered in the form of a sharp noise of arousal from the human. Muttered streams of curses and exaltation fell from Sam's lips as Cas took it in his mouth.

No book had ever prepared Sam for Castiel. Despite the angel's gentle, innocent, confused behavior, something changed when he got a hold of someone to touch. Not only did it surprise Sam that angels had a sex drive- he did, of course, find that out a long time ago- but the fact that Cas of all people could be so straightforward was nearly unthinkable. And, though Sam hated to admit it, Cas really was good. Be it his host or his millenia of experience, something made the angel more than talented. But after all this, Sam was never more comfortable than when he was in Gabriel's arms.


	11. Cariad

Sleepy angels were the best types of angels. Dean had decided this long ago, the first time he saw Castiel asleep. The first time they slept in the same bed, the angel had his usually-concealed wings out and was twitching them slightly in his sleep. Even if it was a sign of ill health, it was still the most amusing thing Dean had ever seen. And, while he detested calling things adorable, he'd make an exception for a drowsy, twitchy Cas. Especially if that drowsy, twitchy Cas was snuggled up in his arms.

Part of the reason Dean loved Cas was that he was always so cuddly. The hunter would wake up on a motel bed with the angel resting his head on his chest or curled up by his legs. He occasionally insisted on snuggling with Dean when he was driving, in which case Sam would be ordered to take the wheel. The younger man always seemed less than thrilled at these rides. Dean never cared a bit. Not that he noticed.

No-one had given Dean so much love before, and it honestly warmed his heart even when nothing else could. In a world where almost everyone was against him, having one of the most powerful, wonderful people he knew find him so brilliant and amazing was almost unbelievable. He really did need someone like that, more than anything. Even if he never meant as much to Cas as Cas meant to him, it didn't matter. But something in the way that Cas threw himself into the line of fire for Dean, how he cared about him as if he'd known him all his life, the way he always knew what to say... he knew he did matter to the angel. There was nobody more important in Castiel's mind.


	12. Abscind

Some hunters dealt with anger differently than others. Everyone knew that. A few kept it bottled inside, giving the surreal impression of someone who wasn't completely damaged by the job. Others- ones who hunted alone- didn't try to deal with their anger. They took it out not only on the creatures they hunted but on everyone else that gave them a chance. Still more did it the way people 'usually' did- drinking, sleeping, isolating.

Pain was something all hunters were familiar with. Emotional, physical, mental- any of them were susceptible. Many people threw themselves in the way of physical pain to deal with their emotions. Dean Winchester was one of them, though he couldn't tell anyone about it. God knows they'd worry too much. Didn't they know he wasn't worth it?

Notebook paper crumpled under Dean's arms as he slumped forward on the table. His head and chest ached with anxiety. Breathing shakily, he closed his eyes tightly and dug his fingernails into the wood. Christ, he hated these nights. Everything was crashing down on him and he couldn't stop any of it. A part of him just wanted to give up.


	13. Sanguiferous

Shaking breaths hissed from Sam's lungs. The cement beneath his throbbing head was cold against his cheek. Try as he might, he couldn't move. His body had betrayed him, leaving itself broken on the ground. His bloody shirt clung to his frame, burning as it stuck to the open wounds on his torso. He barely gripped onto consciousness, thoughts swimming through his aching head.

Pitifully, Sam attempted a cry for help. The noise that choked out of his mouth was a strangled squeak. Air brushed up against the inside of his throat, making him cough violently. Blood spattered on the dirty concrete, and the man shuddered. How much longer did he have? What had even happened?

Nothing from the past day was in Sam's memory. He couldn't remember being on a hunt, or really, doing anything to put himself in danger. One by one, his other memories began to fade as he struggled to stay conscious. Blood seeped from his wounds, filling his noise with the intoxicating smell of rust. Eventually, his sheer willpower ceased to keep him awake. With a last, faltering breath, he slipped into the warm, comforting nothingness.


	14. Taction

Sunlight flowed through the window, greeting Castiel as he opened his cerulean eyes. His wings were outstretched slightly beneath the covers, and he kept his head on the soft pillow. The angel's knees were tucked up toward his chest as he curled up to keep himself warm through the cool night. Luckily, he didn't have to be lonely. On the other side of th bed, an exhausted hunter slept on. Cas observed the man's chest rising and falling slowly, keeping a watchful eye on him.

Peeking through one eye at the angel, the now-awake Dean grinned and took his hand beneath the sheets. "'Morning, Cas," he whispered groggily. His olive-green eyes were shining with contentment. Leaning forward, he gave Castiel a quick kiss on the nose. The angel smiled sweetly, inching closer to Dean. Their fingertips touched, and Cas closed his eyes again as he felt Dean take his other hand in his own as well. Morning like these were the reason both of them kept fighting.

Noon rolled by, then 1:00, then 2:00 as the two men laid together. True, they had things to do, but that could wait. They weren't there just for saving the world, after all. They had needs, and they did, without a doubt, need each other. Dean and Castiel were like two halves of a whole. Simply put, there was no real way to part them.


	15. Inficete

Storm clouds gathered overhead as the Impala sped down the road. Rain soon began to pummel the top and sides of the car, and the wheels sprayed water across the ground. The wipers began to scrape across the front window, making Dean flinch. Lightning flashed overhead, followed by deafening thunder. Wind shrieked outside, crashing the trees together. Still, Dean sped on, not letting the weather deter his journey.

Praying they'd find shelter soon, Sam closed his eyes and tried to block out the noise. Though his brother definitely knew about his fear of clowns, he'd managed to keep his fear of storms hidden. Until now, that is. He shook slightly, clenching his jaw as he heard the sharp crack of thunder. With any luck, Dean wouldn't notice. Of course, Sam was never a very lucky boy.

Needless to say, Dean did indeed give Sam hell about his phobia. The aforementioned man was laying on his motel bed eating chips. Sam was under the covers of his own bed, pillow over his head to drown out the noise of the still-blowing storm and of his older brother's jackassery. Said jackass was, as usual, playfully taunting his little brother. In fact, Sam couldn't remember a day in his life when he hadn't. Thinking about it, though... he wouldn't have it any other way.


	16. Eschaton

Scorn clouded Dean's gaze as he stared up at his brother. His fists were clenched tightly into fists, and he was bristling with fury. Tears slipped from his stinging eyes, but still he kept his composure as best as he could. Sam looked back down at him, sympathy and sorrow in his hazel eyes. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Dean cut him off with a vicious but pained look. It was a look that spoke of hurt and loss and blame.

"Please believe me, Dean. They did all they could," Sam insisted, a pleading tone in his voice. Nobody had gotten out happy. Hell, their best friend had died. He was hurting, too, but he knew he couldn't begin to think what was going on in Dean's mind. "But he wanted to say-"

"No, don't. I don't want to hear it," Dean interjected, voice cracking. He couldn't believe any of it. Cas wasn't dead, he _couldn't _be dead. Not his Cas. Not the one he'd give anything for. Not the man who held his heart so gently in his hands.


	17. Lordolatry

Stars lit up the sky overhead and shone down on Castiel's face. He gazed up at them, pensive as always, as Dean sipped a beer beside him. They never talked much on nights like these. Why would they? The only thing they needed was each other. Words would just tie them down.

Pale moonlight reflected on the grass, turning the blades a beautiful silvery green. Dean laid his arm around Castiel's bony shoulders and pulled him closer, savoring his presence as if it were the most precious thing he knew. When he thought about it, though, he realized it really was. Nothing else was as sacred to him, no man more loved, no time more cherished. He knew it from the start, ever since the angel took his hand and led him from Hell. Debt had turned to love, and now... it wasn't just love anymore; it was something that no words could ever do justice.

Normally, people looked at Dean and Castiel with ignorant judgement clouding their minds. Even if they didn't know about their story, or even that Cas wasn't technically a guy (though they might object further to interspecies relationships), they still insisted on being judgmental assholes. Dean didn't care. He'd heard everything before. Besides, no matter what people said, they were feeling hate. What was hate when you had something beyond love?


	18. Renitent

"Stolen? You stole a car?" Sam demanded angrily. Dean nodded, nonchalant, and shrugged his shoulders. His brother's apathy, of course, only made Sam more furious. "We don't need another reason for the police to be on our case. Besides, your car works just fine!"

"Perfect," Dean muttered bitterly. "You don't even get why I stole it. Tell me, what day is it?" Sam stared at his brother, confused and agitated, but pointed to the date on the screen of his cell phone- May 2. Dean nodded again, smirking. "Thought so- happy birthday, Sammy."

"Nice, ah- nice present," Sam murmured, dumbfounded. "Dean, you haven't gotten me a birthday present in over a decade. Why now? And why steal a damn car?" His face softened, though, as he saw the hurt expression on the other man's face. "But, uh- thanks?"


	19. Obeliscolychny- Part I of III

School was by far the most boring thing in Dean's life. Not that his time spent at home was so interesting, either- after all, his dad was a douche and his brother was a bitch- but hey, he didn't have to learn. Though, it wasn't even learning that he did at school. He knew all of it already. And, most of all, everybody was so boring. Not to mention the significant lack in hot chicks.

Painting was one of the few classes Dean didn't completely hate. His art usually turned out to be more appealing and interesting than reality. So when the teacher announced that they had a new student, he was in a decent enough mood to care. The new kid- some guy named Castiel- was an awkward, oddly-dressed, short type of person. Normally, Dean wold dismiss someone like that, but something about the way Cas took in all of his surroundings with childlike whimsy...well, it attracted his attention. Maybe he'd finally find someone fit to be friends with.

"Newbie, hey," Dean called as he headed out of class. Cas turned around back and peered at the other student, silent and intrigued. "I'm Dean," he greeted the new boy, holding out his hand. Castiel didn't take it, but he did give Dean a tiny smile. "Right. Well...where are you heading next, Cas?"


	20. Benefic- Part II of III

"Social studies," Castiel answered in a calm, quiet voice. "Uh...you?" Dean nodded, not bothering to answer. Social studies was a bit detestable, but at least now he knew someone. As they walked down the hallway, Cas looked around in wonder. He was a little odd, Dean thought, but a little curiosity never hurt anyone.

Painfully, the boy sat through the lesson. The teacher was droning on about ancient Greece- something Dean frankly couldn't care less about. Cas, on the other hand, seemed to be incredibly focused. Fair enough- maybe he hadn't learned it a billion times before. At least Cas was a distraction. This new boy had proven to be a bit more than boring.

Notes started to be passed, and lots of them, at that. The teacher didn't notice- Ancient Greece called, or maybe he was just even more dull than Dean thought. _Hey, Castiel? _**Yeah, Dean?** _Do you like me? Y/N._


	21. Effulge- Part III of III

Scared just a little bit, Dean tapped at the artificial wood of his desk with his pencil. His heart thudded in his chest as he heard Castiel's pen scratching at the paper. Was he taking it too fast? Was he even sure he liked Cas? Hell, he'd known him for less than a day, and maybe he was just being silly. But what's done was done, and maybe something good could come of it.

Paper was slipped onto Dean's desk in a sharply folded square, and he eyed it cautiously. He dug the tip of his pencil into the desk anxiously, wearing it down a bit and making a grey-black mark, but he didn't care. Eventually, though, he succumbed to curiosity and had to look. After all, what was the point if he didn't? With shaking fingers, he unfolded the slip. A smile lit his face as he read it.

iNo,/i Cas had written, iI don't like you. I/i really ilike you/i. A bit cheesy, Dean had to admit, but did that matter? He grinned, blushing a bit, and put the note back down. Maybe school could bring good things. It certainly had today.


	22. Repugn

"Saaam," Gabriel whined, "Get up." The angel was perched atop a chair pulled up to the hunter's bed and was watching him intently. Sam frowned, still not opening his eyes, and turned away. He shoved his face into his pillow and pretended to snore. Gabriel sighed. "Now, now, Sammy, you've gotta come out sometime."

"Piss off," Sam moaned, exhausted. "Go wank or something. I'm tired." Gabriel clucked his tongue in disdain, not relenting in his pestering. The human, of course, folded the pillow of the dusty motel bed over his ears and tried to block out Gabe's sighed deeply and closed his eyes tight.

"Not again," Gabe cried, almost genuinely upset. "Come on, the week's not over yet." He pointed to the banner above the bed. "See? May 2nd to May 8th. Sam's Birthday Week- and you've gotta celebrate."


	23. Thanatopsis

Stone mausoleums were scattered about the desolate landscape of the deserted cemetery. Ancient headstones rose from the ground, covered in spider-infested ivy. Sam tread slowly through the rows of graves, leaves crackling beneath his feet. He shivered as the cool wind pierced his skin, and he lowered his head against it. Despite the icy cold breeze, he still pressed on determinedly.

Presently, he knelt down beside a lonely marble headstone. Unlike all the others, this grave was adorned with flowers, and the moss growing on and around it had been scraped away. Tears filled Sam's eyes, and he wiped them away with the back of his shaking hand. He breathed out falteringly and gazed, bereft, at the inscription. iDean Winchester, 1979-2015, loving son, brother and husband; Castiel Winchester, 1978-2015, a wonderful husband and a loyal friend./i

Not a word was whispered by the hunter, but the tears that soon began to fall from Sam's eyes said enough. He reached out and brushed the palm of his hand against the cool white stone. The ridges of the carvings that decorated it left small, pale scratches on his fingertips. His body was wracked with sobs, and he cries until he choked. The man stayed there, shaking, with his head bowed until the sun rose. iPlease/i, he prayed, ilet them be happy./i


	24. Bersatrix

Stories had been passed down from one generation to the next in the Winchester family. Though he wasn't technically related by blood, John was no exception, and he learned about the beasts his ancestors used to slay. His dad used to say that he and his other father were hinters once, but his uncle Sam would always give him a scathing look that silenced him right away. The boy's (adoptive) father, Castiel, never said anything when the topic came up, but his dad, Dean, always seemed to regret talking about it when he saw Castiel's face. Why were they so worried when the monsters obviously never existed?

Plenty of days, Dean was present in John's life. He took the boy for rides in the Impala- thankfully, it still worked- and made dinner for the rest of the small family. Unfortunately, on some days, he was nowhere to be seen. Castiel had explained to John that Dean needed space sometimes. The boy's dad had always returned home late on those days, drunk and depressed. John didn't like seeing his dad that way, but he was never like that for long. Though, there was always the chance he hid it most of the time.

Neither John's father nor his uncle were like that, however. Given that they all lived in the same house, Sam was rather like a third father to John. Castiel was caring, but he wasn't exactly the most knowledgeable father someone could have. This meant, of course, that when Dean couldn't take care of John, it was usually Sam who did the work. Castiel did do work, though, reading and singing to the boy. No matter how odd it got, though, they were always and undoubtedly a family.


	25. Eau-De-Nil

Soul was something Castiel definitely had, more than most people he'd ever known. Once he'd gotten the hang of feeling, he'd immersed himself in anything that provoked emotion. He liked delight especially, of course, but he could take the sorrow and and fury and terror. In fact, he loved everything 'human'- after all, it was the closest thing to what he was now. Cas loved music-rock and pop and alternative and anything where you could just _hear _the emotion. He loved sleeping and eating and hunting and reading and shagging, and above all else, he loved Dean.

Piles of blankets covered Castiel's motel bed, keeping him warm as he dozed beneath them. A radio played quietly on the bedside table, broadcasting a barely-audible love song. The one upside to being a fallen angel was that he could finally sleep. He was roused from his slumber, though, as he felt Dean sit down at the foot of the bed. Poking his head up above the covers, Cas smiled at the hunter. He reached out and turned up the radio, and Dean grinned as he recognized the song.

_"Nothing is between us now, I can't believe it's true..." _Without a word, Dean slipped under the blankets beside Castiel and closed his eyes as the angel slung an arm around his shoulders. The leather of the hunter's jacket was warm on the angel's skin, and he beamed as he felt Dean reach over and take his other hand. This was the best part about falling, Cas decided. There truly was nothing between them- they were free to love. And, even if he was still a slave to the "proper" angels, he would still feel free if he had Dean.


	26. Nesh

"Shit," Castiel hissed under his breath as Dean slipped the cold needle beneath his skin. He winced in pain, clenching his eyes shut to avoid looking at the candy-red gash that had been torn into his arm. Just hours before, the two of them had been on the hunt for a small coven of witches, and after a bloody, painful fight, they'd managed to put an end to their games. Unfortunately, the most powerful of them had managed to start slicing into Cas' skin before they'd offed her. Given that he couldn't heal himself anymore- one of the many downsides of falling- Dean had to patch him up. At the very least, though, it _was _a successful hunt.

"Please, Cas, just hold still," the hunter groaned, exasperated, as he continued to stitch up the wound. "I don't wanna screw this up, and I don't think you want me to, either." Obediently, Cas forced himself to stay still as Dean worked determinedly at closing the gash. While it seemed like forever, eventually the cut was sewn up, and, though Cas was glad it was over, he had a certain sense of pride at getting through it. He watched as Dean grabbed a bottle of alcohol and washed the blood off the wound. Castiel flinched, but smiled slightly as the hunter then put the bottle aside and pulled him into a protective embrace.

"Never let someone get that close to killing you again," Dean ordered worriedly. "She almost got you, man- what were you thinking?" Castiel didn't answer, but tentatively wrapped his arms around the other man. It felt more awkward to than anything, but comforting all the same. After a few moments, Dean straightened up again, but kept his hands on the angel's shoulders. "Seriously, what would I do if something happened to you? I told you once, and I'll say it again: I _need _you."


	27. Nepenthe

"Stop it, Dean," Castiel commanded weakly, blood seeping from his mouth. The angel's jaw was bruised, and his face was scraped all over. His head ached from hitting the wall as Dean had pushed him against it. He hung his head, confused and hurt, but Dean drunkenly forced it back up and raised his fist. Cas' vision was blurry, and his heart pounded as he clung feebly to the wall behind him. Every inch of him was bruised and bloody, beaten for barely any reason by someone he thought was his friend- or even more.

"P-please," Castiel stuttered, closing his eyes with exhaustion. "Stop it, Dean, I love you..." He attempted to talk through the blood in his mouth, but the best he could manage was a halfhearted mumble. His chest heaved with strangled breaths as Dean continued to slam his fist into the shorter man's jaw. Cas' thoughts and words slurred together until at last he slumped forward against the drunk's chest, unconscious. Dean stumbled back, shocked out of his violent stupor, and let Cas fall to the ground.

"...No, God, no," he whispered in disbelief. His anger seemed to drain out of him as he realized just what he'd done. He knelt next to Castiel and laid a finger to his neck to feel his pulse. With a quiet sob of defeat, he found that it was slow, fading, dying. Dead.


	28. Yikker

"So, I guess there's no convincing you not to keep it." Dean eyed Castiel, slightly annoyed, as he set a scrawny, stray kitten on the floor of their motel room. Cas nodded, focused on the cat, and wiped the dirt from its fur off his coat. The other hunter rolled his eyes and picked up the cat by the scruff of its neck. "Cas, we're _not _keeping it. Go...take it to the pound or something."

"People often say that a cat can bring comfort to the soul. Besides, I have wanted one for quite a while," Castiel responded, cocking his head in a pleading manner. As if the cat had wanted Cas for quite a while, too, it began to struggle against Dean and mewl at the angel. Dean frowned and placed the kitten on one of the beds, making a mental reminder not to sleep on that one, and turned back to Cas. Before he could get out a word, though, the other man started to talk again. "I really would appreciate it."

"...Never ask me for anything else again," Dean replied begrudgingly, stepping back from the cat. Cas beamed with glee and picked up the kitten, which immediately began purring and rubbing its head against the stubble on the angel's chin. Dean turned away ,trying to hide the smile that had spread across his face. Though he hated to admit it, it was pretty adorable on those rare occasions that Cas was this happy. After all, he definitely deserved it. Almost as if he was reading his thoughts, Cas turned back to Dean and flashed him an appreciative grin.


	29. Karezza

Sam woke up one morning with the taste of whiskey in his mouth and little memory of the night before. That was the first sign that it was going to be an odd day. The second was the naked man dozing next to him, from whom Sam quickly turned away. Though it wasn't the first time he'd gotten shitfaced and something akin to this had happened, he was definitely having the worst hangover of any of the other times. Not to mention the fact that it was the first time it happened with another guy.

Praying he wouldn't wake the man up, Sam sat up in the bed and put one foot on the ground. Unfortunately, the bed was rather noisy, and the screeching of the springs was nearly deafening. He winced as he heard the other man sit up in bed. Sam turned his head towards him slightly, too scared to know who exactly he'd slept with. After all, he couldn't recall going out- it had to have been someone who'd been travelling with him. If he could just-

"No, wait, don't go," Kevin said groggily, rubbing his eyes. Sam turned around and blinked in defeated surprise. He cocked his head, confused, and opened his mouth, even though he couldn't quite find what to say. "What happened last night?" the prophet asked, just as dumbfounded as Sam. The hunter just shook his head and promptly got out of bed. He only stopped on the way out to grab his pants from the floor.


	30. Erethism

"Sorry, Sam, but it's a good idea and you know it." Dean was, as always, lounging on his hotel bed- legs crossed, arms behind his head- and Sam was turned away, shaking his head in disbelief. "I mean, we always _pretend _not to be brothers, either way." He thought for a moment. "Wait. You have been on a date before, right?"

"Please, Dean, just drop it- I'm _not _going on a date with you!" Sam sighed, pulling a chair out from the room's small table and sitting down. "I don't even know where the Hell you got that idea...and last time I checked, we're still brothers." Dean shrugged, nonchalant, and closed his eyes with a bored yawn. Sam frowned, irritated and exasperated. "Oh, don't give me that."

"Not complaining, man. I'm just sayin' that for me to be around someone nearly 24/7 and never having gotten in their pants is kinda weird." Dean opened his eyes again and looked questioningly at Sam. "And everyone thinks we're together anyway. Plus, it'd be fun-hopefully. So get that stick outta your ass and date me."


	31. Vagient

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy. Chin up! It's Christmas!" Gabriel grinned up at Sam with a look of unadulterated excitement in his eyes. Sam, however, was not nearly as joyous as the angel. He turned away, but Gabe still continued to pester him with talk of candy and presents.

"Presents? Gabriel, I'm a grown man. I don't care about presents." Sam walked over to his bed in their shared motel room and sat down, shaking his head. "You can go, but it's really not my thing. Tell Dean and Cas I said merry Christmas."

"Nah, I can't go without a date! You don't want me to look like a loser, do you, Sammy?" Gabe pouted dejectedly. Sam looked over at him, regretting it instantly (he couldn't say no to that face!) and sighed. Without a word, he rifled through his bag and got his coat and car keys. Gabe grinned victoriously as the hunter put on the coat and walked, defeated, toward the door.


End file.
